Page 12 of Mutual Prey

“Mhm hmm. That’s right, baby.”

_

“Hey, baby.”

Asshole!

I don’t think Daddy would considerassholeto be a swear word. Well, maybe he would. But then, he would probably be somewhat forgiving of my foul mouth given that I appear to be stark-naked, with my hands and feet cuffed to the bed, and a knife is currently stroking down my stomach, held by a very attractive and homicidal-looking man.

No, not attractive—did I think the word attractive?

There’s nothing attractive about the way his dark green eyes glint at me, or his scruffy beard or chiseled jawline. Or the dark hair that touches his shoulders. Or the tattoos that litter his neck and wind all the way up one side of his face, to his forehead.

Or the twenty pounds of muscle he’s packed on since I last saw him.

Fine, maybe heiskind of attractive. In fact, I’d probably still have a crush on him if he weren’t currently holding a knife against my stomach.

Then again, that’s not exactly a dealbreaker, either.

“Wakey wakey.”

His mocking words cut through my annoying inner monologue. I sigh.

“You’re a real coward, aren’t you, Finn? Couldn’t you at least kill me without drugging me first?”

He chuckles, and wetness gathers between my legs as the knife blade strokes my lower stomach. Damn, I wish I weren’t tied spread-eagled to this bed. His eyes rove over to my pussy, and his laugh turns gloating. But he doesn’t comment on it.

“That’s funny coming from a girl whose MO is sinking syringes into people’s necks.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a woman. How else could I overpower a 200-pound man?”

“Hmm. Very feminist of you.”

You piece of sh...

He goes back to raking the knife over my upper body, from my neck over my tit down to my lower belly, but always stopping before it goes further. I have to force myselfnotto arch into it.

In my defense, sex in the Arctic tundra was not a frequent occurence. I’m feeling pretty desperate these days.

“Well, go on,” I snap. “Kill me.”

“Oh, I will.” He smirks, and I repress a shiver. “But you’re so pretty, Cass. I’ve spent four whole years fantasizing about you. Thinking of how I’d use your body, fuck it until your holes bleed, before sinking my knife into you. Maybe I’ll stab your pussy first. Hack off your breasts after. Then your lips. Riddle your ass with puncture wounds. Bet you’d like that, huh?” He runs his blade over my folds then shows me the moisture.

Well, I guess he’s got me. I do find that pretty hot. I’m not sure what that says about me, but then again, I have a tendency to masturbate after a killing session. I would’ve done it after my dinner if he hadn’t drugged me first.

I’ve long ago given up trying to understand myself.

I actually groan in disappointment when he sets the blade down. But it’s only to reach for my nipples and tweak them.

“Bet you like getting pain just as much as you like giving it, huh? I’ve never heard you scream, Cass. I’ve thought about it a whole lot these past years. I wonder if you scream high-pitched, or low and husky. Can’t wait to find out.”

He pinches my nipples so hard that I wonder if they’ll still exist when he removes his hands. I clench my jaw, unwilling to make even the smallest sound.

It’s not hard to keep my screams in my mouth. Haven’t I had two broken wrists? And my fair share of stab wounds, and even two gunshot wounds. My body is scarred, and as he pinches, he trails his tongue hungrily over the biggest one, the one that starts right under my breast and goes all the way down to my navel.

“Good girl,” he praises, at last withdrawing his hands. “Not a single sound. But we’re just gonna have to try harder, aren’t we? I won’t leave here till you scream.”

I assume he also won’t leave here until I’m dead, and I’m determined not to give him the satisfaction of the scream, at least. I wait, my heart beating a little harder than I’d like to admit, as his hands follow the trail of his tongue down to my hips, before raking back up again.